The Virgin Bride

The Virgin Wife

My name is Christine Craig, or at least it was before I got married at the age of 15. I never expected to find myself married at this age. I was always the type of person who disapproved of teenage pregnancy and marriage at such a young age, but I never thought that I would be involved in such an unusual or, rather, almost unreal situation.

Anyone would have said that arranged marriages were a thing of the past and that there was no point in giving away a daughter in exchange for monetary or material benefit, but today I can tell those people, "If only you knew how life really is!"

Belonging to the elite can have its benefits, but also its sacrifices, and one of them is precisely marrying young. Why?

The answer might seem complicated, but in reality, it's quite the opposite: an alliance.

Just like the kings of old used to, but this time not to protect their people from a war, but to protect themselves. In my case, my marriage was to preserve my father's business, not because he needed money or was on the brink of bankruptcy. No!

My father did it because men like him are quite cautious. They think about the future, a very distant future that they might not even live to see, but you always have to be prepared. I was conceived with that purpose, to be my father's scapegoat, a lure or bait for a billionaire, because... who wouldn't want to be family with the businessman Henry Craig?

He had no problem revealing his plan to me the very day he told me I would have to marry the man I had been promised to since I was a baby, and that my education had been planned to please that man once we were married.

Yes, the very idea is repugnant, but that's how my father thought, if I could still call him my father. But Sophie had no problem accompanying my father to see me, not to try to convince me, because, in fact, it was an order I had to fulfill, but to make sure I would accept such absurdity. Why?

Because if I refused, she would have to take my place, and, although that might have been my best option, in reality, I was signing my own fate.

I, who had been born into luxury, had been educated not only to be the best student and the best wife, but in reality, I had nothing. I was at the mercy of my father, since by saying that I did not accept the marriage I was bound to, he would simply throw me out and care little, if at all, about my well-being, even though I had never truly been part of his family, even though the same blood ran through our veins and my last name was the same as his. At that moment, I understood that I was nothing more than a replacement daughter whom he could discard without feeling any remorse.

I could barely understand why he did all that when I was also his daughter. I had always envied Sophie for having what I so longed for, which was the love and protection of a father. Why couldn't I have that? What had I done to deserve his disdain?

Even though I cried and begged, I faced my destiny, mainly because I didn't know what to do at such a young age if I didn't obey my father. It was the fear of enduring hardships and fending for myself, and although I certainly thought about it and pondered it for a long time, I was terrified to see my bank account empty, as my father had thought of everything. If I were to escape, I would surely have to do it without a penny, and the truth is, I was intimidated by that pressure on my shoulders.

When the day of my wedding arrived, I wore a rather elegant dress that Sophie bought for me because I was confined to the Durham residence, a property befitting my family's name, very luxurious but quite lonely.

If Sophie and I didn't have different body types, I would have thought that it was precisely she who tried it on, as the style was very much in line with hers.

Flashy and somewhat daring, but even though it wasn't to my liking, the dress or how it looked on me was really irrelevant, since my wedding day was merely a ceremony to move from one gilded cage to another.

I knew absolutely nothing about the man who had struck such a deal with my father, but for this to happen with little notice, I assumed the man must be quite wealthy and surely belonged to the social circle that my supposed family frequented.

That thought made me think of the possibility that my father had deceived him and perhaps that poor fool expected to marry Sophie instead of the sickly one, because everyone must have known that absurd rumor, even him.

That thought kept me afloat on my wedding day. If I was going to marry a stranger, at least I hoped to have a bit of satisfaction in my own way.

I hoped that bastard would be disappointed to see that it wasn't Sophie who was by his side at the altar, but to my unpleasant surprise, things did not go as I expected.

My sister, who was really just a stranger pretending to be kind to me, was in the front row. She wore a stunning red dress, her blonde hair was loose, and a rather handsome man was by her side.

She seemed to be enjoying the spectacle, and I guessed that her presence so close to the altar would ruin my plans. However, when the wedding march began to play, indicating it was time to seal my own fate, the groom finally made his appearance, and he was not what I expected.

I had imagined a thin old man, between sixty and eighty years old, wrinkled and even somewhat unkempt, but instead of that depraved image, I found something far from that idea.

The guy had perfect jet-black hair, thick but well-defined eyebrows, a short, well-groomed beard, and appeared freshly shaved. Large, rosy lips, and a more than attractive face, but despite what my eyes saw, that is, that unusual beauty in a man who might have been around 35 or 40 years old, my body froze in fear.

Yes!

That's what I felt when I saw him, because despite his beauty, he was still the same i***t who had conspired for this wedding with my father. He had bought me, but... what was the cost?

My father, Henry Craig, had the audacity to walk me down the aisle, as otherwise, his friends would gossip even more than they already were.

Everyone present was a stranger to me, and each of them, upon looking at me, gave me a range of expressions. And the one that stood out the most was from the women around me, as if they despised me despite not knowing me.

I didn't learn his name until after an hour of the judge's rambling. His name was Arthur Sallow, and at the end of that string of lies, I was declared Mrs. Sallow.

Everyone applauded, ignoring the fact that I was still a minor and had not consented to any of this, but when the ceremony ended, and I was forced to kiss that man. I knew that no one really cared about my opinion, what I felt, or what I said.

During the party, I greeted many people I didn't know, but they all seemed to know me very well. They gave me smiles meant to please my father and husband, though I lost sight of him for much of the time.

I observed him during his conversations with friends, because even though my father claimed he had raised me thinking about the man's needs, that didn't mean I knew him.

My first impression of him was that he was an imposing man. I hadn't dared to speak to him the whole time I took his arm to walk away from the altar. I feared his rejection and preferred to remain silent for both our comfort.

He also seemed very sociable, although his demeanor was cold. He knew most of the guests, and with each of them, or at least those who seemed quite important, he raised a glass without showing any signs of intoxication. So the wine must have been extremely good, or he had a lot of drinking experiences, which I didn't doubt.

Men seemed to have a weakness for alcohol, whether it was my father's wine or not. At least in the case of my father, and although we didn't spend much time together, I could know him and Sophie thanks to the belongings they left in each of the residences.

My father collected wines from different parts of the world and had a display case for the finest ones, so I assumed that this Arthur must have tastes similar to my father's.

Around eight in the evening, I lost sight of him again. After searching for him, I discovered him walking with a certain bearing toward one of the doors to the garden.

The truth is, the place they had chosen to celebrate that wedding seemed like a palace, in which, despite its beauty, was easy to get lost. So I followed my husband, guessing that perhaps he was already too drunk to want to get lost in the gardens. However, he vanished among a maze of different paths that I didn't know where they led.

I would have gotten lost if it weren't for the moans or groans I heard coming from a woman's voice. Despite that noise indicating I should leave and pretend I hadn't heard anything, I decided to investigate.

My curiosity went far beyond what I had ever allowed it, and amidst the beauty of a beautiful fountain full of cherubs and marble benches inviting one to enjoy the view, I saw a rather animated couple, perhaps due to the warmth of the drinks offered at the party.

They were both enjoying the warmth of their bodies despite the drops of dew from the fountain and the cold of the marble. Neither of them had any shame or embarrassment about doing it right there, as if they were taking advantage of the forbidden or the secret of the place to be intimate in the moonlight.

I would have left and allowed them to continue if the girl hadn't turned in my direction and seen my face.

"Your wife is watching us," she said with a certain air of mockery and cynicism.

It was then that Arthur turned in my direction, looked at me, but did absolutely nothing. If we had been a normal couple, he would have at least stopped what he was doing, but Arthur didn't do that. Instead, he continued with his shameless act in front of me.

I felt so disgusted that I couldn't help but feel nauseous. I left with my hand covering my mouth, fearing I might actually vomit. But even when I reached the hall, amidst the tobacco smoke and various other smells, I didn't vomit.

I left because my father didn't bother to keep an eye on me, and I went to the hotel where I was supposed to spend my wedding night. I was afraid that man might consummate our sham of a marriage despite having slept with another, but even though I stayed up waiting for him, he never showed up.

He never touched me, and I was grateful he chose to keep me as a virgin wife.